Audra
by xxrofl
Summary: Vapidly boring, that's what Audra Thomas' life was. And now, she's rethinking her description, mainly because of the unbearably beautiful boy her mother just hired. Even through his good-looks, grace, and charm, there's just something wrong about him...
1. intro

**so, it's six o'clock in the morning, and I've actually got plans for the day, so I'm gonna stop at chapter ten. I've been at this all night. so, this is back drop silhouettes, my old story, but edited so that it's a little less wordy, and the characters seem more realistic and junk.**

**so, enjoy.**

**(:**

**-xx, rofl.**


	2. Chapter 1

The sun is an amazing thing, especially on the first days of summer, after you get out of school. When you really don't have much of a care in the world. I could feel it, heating my skin. Warm and gentle, despite the burn I knew I'd be receiving later. But, I didn't care about any of that, despite the lovely feeling of it. At that moment, there was only one thing I wanted. And that one thing, temporarily, was out of my reach. When I need it most, how ironic life is sometimes, right?

I had to go the bathroom, extremely badly. In fact, it felt like my bladder was going to burst. But, I couldn't. Why? Well, first of all, I was in the middle of selling some of the unusable items that had been donated to the animal shelter that both my mother and I worked at. Second, there was no one else there, so I couldn't just leave. I had the walky-talky, and I could always call in for my mother or someone, but then I'd have to hear everyone's mouth.

I was picked on whenever I did something even remotely funny. And funny was, to all the kids in their early twenties at the Buis Creek Animal Rescue Shelter, anything having to do with the bathroom, sex, or both. And I, being the giant creep of a perv I was, mentioned both a lot. And then they all giggled and freaked out on me. I wasn't even legally allowed to touch the dogs, or any other animals, because, legally, if they were to scratch or bite me, they'd have to be put to sleep. I was only seventeen. Well, seventeen and a half, if you want to get technical.

I was hired because I seemed to have a way with animals. They just really like me, mostly all of them. I help social the kittens and the puppies, and the dogs that were way too scared to even look at anyone who came up to their kennels

I didn't get why some dogs were considered more dangerous than other just because they were larger or something. Most of the "bully breeds"—pitbulls, boxers, those kinds of dogs—that had come into the shelter had always been loving and sweet. Perhaps a little panicked, sometimes confused, and all the time scared.

And that was more than understandable. They were being taken from their homes the only place they know, and put into a tiny, square kennel, barely the size of a closet, only seeing the staff, and being surrounded by other dogs that are just as scared, and loud, as they are.

And the stuff that we were selling was the stuff those loud, terrified dogs could not use. Beds and toys that they would chew apart, pretty decorated bowls that would break in a few hours, carriers way too small, dog houses that wouldn't fit inside the kennels…

Honestly, people should realize that we couldn't use any of this crap. It was kind of obvious that our dogs aren't as well behaved as their little "Muffin" or "Precious". Goodness. Really people, grow some kind of a brain. Donate money, or food, or blankets or something. Stuff that can really be used.

"So, wait…" Some woman, with dark skin and a face tight with what I assumed to have been a recent Botox injection, said. Her high, annoyingly trilling voice was giving me a headache, and I kind of just wished she'd go away. I just wasn't rude enough to tell her that to her face. "I can get all of this for just twelve dollars?" She gestured to the small pile of beds, and the few bowls that she had next to herself.

I simply nodded, crossing my legs in my chair, hoping she'd leave soon so I could make that embarrassing beep to someone inside. I really had to go. It was like that commercial, for that medicine. You've probably heard it before. You might've even been as irritated by it as I am. Although, granted, I am extremely easy to annoy.

The "Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now" one. Ugh, whenever I hear that, I just want to punch someone in the face. God, it's so freaking annoying.

"Oh, wow!" the woman exclaimed, for the millionth time, smiling widely. She pulled her zebra-print wallet out of her cheetah–print bag, and I almost groaned. I'm half convinced I have OCD, because things like that really get to me. Things that didn't match, when stuff wasn't in the right place, when things weren't centered right. All of that really bugged me.

The woman handed me fifteen dollars, squealed for me to keep the change, and then thanked me almost a hundred times as I helped her fit everything into her two passenger sports car. I just smiled as civilly as I could and told her "you're welcome" a hundred times, waving as she drove off.

And then I sighed. _Thank God._

I grabbed the walky-talky faster than I would've imagined possible for me, and held down the side button. "I have to go to the bathroom right now, Mom." I said, before letting the button go, as the tiny device let out a tiny beep.

"Uhm…" The voice that answered a minute or so later wasn't my mom. It was definitely male, and not one that I was used to. He must've been the new guy. His tone was teasing, like anyone else's would've been, but some how in a lighter manner, nicer and with better intentions, it seemed. "Why are you telling me you have to go to the bathroom…?" he asked, clearing his throat.

"Uh, I didn't tell you, I told my Mom, but she doesn't feel like picking up," I make a soft growl in the back of my throat, letting her know—because I was sure she was listening—that I was upset about that, "and I said it because I do, and I can't leave until someone comes out here."

There was a pause, and I waited for someone to respond, as I stood there, hopping from one foot to the other, almost shaking in my need to go. And there it was, his voice, saving me. "I'll be right out," and then nothing.

He obviously could tell I really had to go, because he was outside in a few seconds, jogging easily down to where I was. I fought to stand still until he got there. "We can save the intros until you get back," he told me, hold his hand out for the walky-talky.

"Oh my god, you own my soul now, I swear. You have me, in eternal servitude." I told him, in a rush, before running inside, past Belinda, the receptionist, down the back stairs, and to the staff restroom.


	3. Chapter 2

When I came back outside, there New Guy was, flirting with some thirty year old, as she looked at dog beds. I approached as slowly as possible, taking my time to evaluate him. First impression? He had nice hair. It was soft looking and shiny without looking greasy. It was long enough to fall lightly into his eyes. It was midnight colored, and I wondered if the color was natural, then grinned. Well, now I was finally on the other side of that question. My entire life people had wondered the same thing about my own hair.

I couldn't tell what color his eyes were from through the distance between us, but when he looked down the check a price, I noted that his eyelashes were long and as dark as his hair. They were thick, and they gently curled up in a delicate way that was rather girly. Girly or not, it was charming, and got him ten dollars for a two dollar toy.

I reached him as his costumer was walking away, and just raised an eyebrow at him when he grinned at me, tucking my hands into the pockets of my shorts. Something about him just didn't sit well with me. I kept getting a feeling that he wasn't right, there was something wrong with him. He made me want to fidget, to ease away from him. Like a scared little rabbit running from a wolf.

Well, no, that was rather dramatic. It was just something that made me edgy. But, oddly, at the same time, I liked it. He seemed dangerous, rather thrilling. I still didn't even know his name.

"Hello," he greeted, his voice taunting enough to be playful, casual enough to not be mean. He practiced the charming smile and his smooth-as-honey voice, obviously. I wouldn't fall for it like he wanted me too. He was sadly mistaken if he expected me to fall at his feet. Even though I was sure even his feet were beautiful.

"Hi," I muttered, absently, before going back to my seat at the table I'd set up. I put my feet up on the flat surface, leaving my light violet flip-flops under it carelessly. His smile wavered slightly, then beamed brilliantly at me again. I knew that if I didn't put up my defenses now, I'd never win the fight with myself.

What I was fighting off I really didn't know. Falling for his tricks, most likely. I refused to be his plaything. Sure, I didn't know him, but men as good-looking as him, who got everything and more just with a smile like him, weren't to be trusted.

"I'm Lucian." There was a slight confusion to the way he said it, like he couldn't understand why I was being so rude to him for no reason. At least he noticed it. That would make him want to talk to me less.

But, his name, oh, it was perfect for him. It wasn't too nerdy, but it wasn't too jock. It wasn't like…Eugene, or Josh. It was a little old fashioned, a little outdated, but it fit, somehow, as if he were born to be named Lucian, as if it were the only name that would've fit him.

It made me jealous. I'd always wished my name had been Catherine or something. Sweet and elegant, without being too unique or overbearing. Instead I got stuck with Audra. I didn't know anyone else with the name Audra and hearing everyone mutter about what a pretty name it was, about the gentle softness of it aggravated me. I knew I should've been named something else.

"Oh," I responded simply, trying to seem like I didn't care at all what his name was. Like I didn't care about who he was. It was a lie, of course, but I was good at telling little lies that covered my true feelings. I'd been doing it for years. No one could tell when I was mad at them; no one could tell when I wasn't. It was like I could pull a mask over my feelings.

It was great, actually.

"What's your's?" The expression on his face clearly showed that he hadn't wanted to ask. But he wanted to know. That showed interest, or politeness. Either one was a plus. If he were polite, that was a good characteristic to have, in my mind. If he was interested in me… well, I suppose you can guess why I'd want that… Not that I would ever in a million years act on it.

"Audra," I said, shrugging my shoulders. Normally I would've said it in a nicer tone, would've added some witty remark about how I didn't like it or something, but I didn't today. My sarcasm didn't seem to fit in with Lucian; it was too…common.

What was I talking about? I didn't even really know the boy! Why was I acting as if I needed his permission to do something I had been doing since I was born? It wasn't like he ruled me or something. Although, I had offered him my eternal servitude.

"That's a lovely name. It fits, I'd say, for such a lovely young woman." he said, taking my hand and pressing his lips against it. His skin was cool, refreshing in an odd sense. His skin was pale, not even lightly touched with a tan at all. Which seemed extremely weird to me, since we normally all spent at least three hours a day outside in the sun a the shelter.

He'd only been working here a week, though, as far as I could tell. My mom had hired him last weekend, and he'd started almost right away, and it was Saturday. Since I hadn't seen him on the days I worked, I assumed he worked my off days. So we only had to see each other one day. Good, that would help my Plan B avoidance thing, if the being a bitch thing didn't defer him.

"You don't like me," he suddenly said. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"I don't know yet," I told him, truthfully. "I might, you never know."

"No, no, it's a good thing if you don't. I'm not exactly what you'd call good, Audra. I wouldn't want you getting in trouble anyways." The smile on his face was softly compelling, but I wouldn't let it bother me in a good or bad way.

"I'm a big girl, Lucian," Oh, his name was nice to say, too. I liked it even more, the way it rolled of my tongue, used my breath. It felt great to say it. Lucian, Lucian, Lucian. It sounded cool too. "I can handle myself," I added.

He laughed. "Oh, I don't doubt that." He smirked at me. "But I'm just not sure if you could handle me," his tone had turned serious, any trace of a smile gone from his face, his voice, and his eyes. They were a deep, dark blue, glinting sharply in the sun, and they were intensely staring into my own, as if begging me to understand him.

"Oh, please, ego boy. I'm not so easily intimidated. Nice use of the eyes though, you get a few points for that. You can go inside now," I added, motioning towards the door with my hand. "I'm set."

"Belinda asked me to stay out here with you until the sale is over. We don't have to talk, if you don't want to, but…" He tailed off, jerked his shoulder in a lazy shrug.

I rolled my eyes. "You are way too compliant. Why don't you just snap at me to deal with it or something?" I asked.

I wasn't used to giving out attitude and getting back kindness. Was it some kind of trick of his? Perhaps it was, so that I would like him, and he could work his way into my bed. Or was if he just was a nice guy? If that were so, why was he trying to convince me otherwise?

"Why? You have every right not to like me," he said, his brow furrowing slightly.

I shrugged again, deciding not to bother with him if he was going to be confusingly logical. "Whatever…So…uh, how old are you?" That was the best I could do, and I nearly smacked myself for it. I felt stupid, even as I reminded myself that it didn't matter, because I was resigned to dislike this boy. I still blushed, but just slightly.

"I just turned eighteen…And yourself?" he asked, seemingly unbothered by my stupid attempt at conversation. Well, that made one of us.

"I'll be eighteen in February," I responded, smiling. "Are you a college boy, like all the rest of the people her?," I laughed a little.

"No, no. I'll be attending Buis Creek high next week, just like you….?" He said the last part as more like a question, obviously inquiring.

I nodded. "Yeah, maybe I'll show you around, or something," I said, attempting casualness. Or maybe I'd stick to my original plan that I seemed to be forgetting, and just avoid you until you got the hint.

"I'd like that," he replied, smirking. It was probably the first compliment that I'd gotten in a while that I didn't think was a lie. I could feel his sincerity, as if it radiated off of his skin, like my own skin absorbed it gently.

I picked up a toy to fiddle with it, having no idea what to say, and my face heated even more. I pretended not to notice that my face had to be scarlet by now, and just turned the box over, in the progress slicing my finger with the corner. The blood dripped in a slow, but steady flow immediately, and I yelped, tossing the toy backwards. I glanced at Lucian to tell him that I was going to run inside and get a bandaid, and froze.

His face was distorted by a scrunched up nose, his eyes narrowed, his muscles randomly tightened. I would've been afraid, but he just looked so damn attractive, and the only thing I could think of was how soft his lips looked, even with the regal aristocratic shape of them, how the top one was thinner than the bottom one, how it was sculpted to sit contently on top of it.

"Audra." No one had ever sighed my name before, but the feeling I got from his voice breathing my name sent a comfortable chill up my spine. He'd paled even more, and his face was turned to look away from me. I figured he must have had some type of fear of blood. Then he glanced again, and groaned gently.

That was my undoing. Never mind that I barely knew the kid, never mind that I didn't know how he would react, or why I was doing it. I just leaned forward, pressing my lips against his.

It wasn't even a quick, soft peck. It was hard, long, and crazy. It was like a flash, the quick and repeating touch of our mouths, and I didn't want to stop. He sighed softly, against my lips, pulling me closer, kissing me back. I wasn't complaining, but I hadn't expected that.

"Uhm…sorry…about that," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck nervously, as I sat back in my chair, what seemed like an eternity later.

He grinned at me. "Don't be. I'm not," he said, before turning, as a costumer pulled up.

How did he know a car as coming? Did he even know it was coming, or did he just happen to turn, coincidentally? Why did it bother me so much?

My hands were shaking, and I couldn't concentrate on anything. When Lucian turned to ask me a question on something he was selling to a little old lady with a little old Pomeranian by her side, it took me a few seconds to understand what he was asking me.

This was going to be a problem, I could already tell. He was going to be a problem for me.


	4. Chapter 3

I went into school on the first day with a smile bigger than anyone else's. It's not that I liked school, although I didn't have as large a hate for it as all the other students seemed to. My friends always complained about the first day of school. It meant there summer was over, that they had to learn again, which was clearly insufferable.

But I was glad. I'd most likely see Lucian every day. We'd have to bump into each other at least once, even if only in the hallway. Our school wasn't that big. Actually, it wasn't big at all. It was tiny, annoyingly so. The size of it was huge, but that didn't really mean anything. There wasn't really that many students and half of the classrooms weren't even ever used.

The puny size of our student population had been annoying before now. Now that Lucian was here, and the minuscule social bulk of my learning environment had guaranteed me a few moments with him daily, it was my best friend.

Sure, I saw him every Saturday, but that didn't really help, especially since my mother had him working in the back most of the time, lifting boxes and doing runs. I was in the front most of the time, filing paperwork, or answering the phones. We didn't even have the same lunch break!

We'd have the same lunch at school. We were both seniors, and all the seniors had the same lunch, so I'd definitely see him then. Gosh, just thinking of seeing him made me nervous and excited at the same time.

"Audra!" a cheerful voice yelled, and I turned to see Gabrielle jogging towards me, her arms full of a few notebooks, a pen behind her ear, holding back a section of her died black hair, her tawny eyes smiling at me as she came to stand in front of me. "Hey, baby cakes," she greeted. "How was your summer?" she added.

I laughed, loudly. "Amazing, since I spent most of it with you," I said, poking her in the side gently, making her laugh.

"Yeah, I know, but that's what I've been asking everyone else, and it seemed unfair of me not to ask you, even if I already knew," she laughed, and we started walking, easily falling into step with each other like we had a million times before.

"So, uhm…" She paused, and then grinned at me. Gabrielle was probably the most beautiful girl at Buies Creek High. Her eyes were the color of amber, and the shape of them was exotic. Her top lid was curved at the corners just slightly, so you couldn't tell if it was slanted or not, only that it definitely wasn't straight. Paired with a slender, high-class nose, artistically pouty lips, and excellent cheekbones, and she was probably better looking than half the models in those stupid magazines. The huge problem with her modeling career was her height. She was shorter than me, which was saying something, since I was only five feet, three inches, and I was coming closer and closer eighteen.

"Have you seen hunky man yet?" she asked.

And of course, just as the words left those stunning lips, he walked over, and laughed.

"Am I 'hunky man'?" He asked me, raising an eyebrow, the laughter still in his eyes as he looked down at me, and I looked up at him.

"Please, ego boy, relax yourself," I responded, rolling my eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes," he laughed aloud again, and took my hand, pressing his lips against it. "Hello, my dear Audra," he greeted me, before turning to Gabrielle. He took her hand in his, and ran his lips against her knuckles. My teeth ground together. "Audra's friend," he said.

"Elle," she said, softly, as if she were out of breath. Flirt.

"Elle? Is that short for something?" he asked.

She nodded. He waited for her to tell him. She looked dazedly at me, as if for help, and I rolled my eyes again.

"Since she's been so charmed by you, Lucian, it seems I must answer," I said, glaring at her shortly. I hardly noted that, around him, I'd taken to a more proper sounding type of speech. "Her name is Gabrielle," I said.

"Oh, that's really pretty," he said, smiling at her. She blushed. I frowned.

"Sure, you guys go ahead and chat it up," I snapped, before shifting the gentle weight of my nearly empty backpack on my shoulder and then stomping off.

And he was right behind me, only seconds later, as if he'd known I was going to get jealous.

Pfft, I wasn't jealous, never mind me saying that. I definitely wasn't jealous.

"Have I done something wrong?" he asked, his hand connecting with mine. His fingers laced into my own. He softly pulled me closer to him, and I didn't resist. He hadn't done anything wrong, and neither had Elle, so I don't know why I was acting like they had.

"Of course not," I said, still a little snappishly.

"Lies," he accused, smiling down at me, his eyes filling my sight, and I sighed. "Tell me, please, Audra, I wouldn't want our first day of school to be the last we speak," he said, his smiling fading and his eyes widening.

"It's not nearly that bad." I laughed even though I knew it wasn't funny. I couldn't help it.

"Then you admit there is something wrong!"

I laughed. "You caught me. I was jealous." Oh gosh. Did I really just say that out loud? God. You're so stupid, Audra, you're such a moron!

"Of me? I'm not stealing—," he started.

"Not of you. Of Gabrielle, because of you." I explained. Well, obviously I didn't get smarter in the last few seconds.

He frowned for a moment, and then shrugged. "Okay, well…uhm….you want to show me around the school?" He asked, as a smile stretched his lips as he obviously changed the subject. I nodded and smiled back, as he just stood there, staring down at me.

Oh, his eyes. They were his best feature, despite the fact that all the others were gorgeous too. His eyes were just incredible. So intense, always luminous, just mesmerizing. He just made me hope and dream, with just one look, that he would be mine. And yet, I knew that would never happen.

"Are you going to just stand there?" a flippantly teasing voice asked from behind me, and I turned to see my bestest buddy ever, standing there behind me. His big, puppy brown eyes gleamed happily as I launched myself into his arms for an ecstatic hug.

"Caleb!" I shouted, and his loud, happy laugh echoed in my ears.

This kid would always be my best friend, even though we fought more often than not. We always made up, and he was always there for me, even if we weren't talking to each other before I needed him. He would always be there for me no matter what I needed. As long as it was in his power, he would do it. He was wonderful.

And I'd missed him more than I should have had to, because he was an idiot and decided to go to Maine for the summer and leave me here, with out him. What was there to do is Maine, anyways, besides be all….Maine-ish?

"Hey, baby," he said, ruffling my hair a little, grinning his wide, toothy smile at me. He left one arm around my shoulders, as we both turned back to face Lucian. He just smiled softly at us.

"Hey, man, I'm Caleb Warren." Caleb said, shaking his sandy blonde curls from his face and holding out his other hand to Lucian, who kept his smile on his face and took Caleb's hand in his own, as I smirked up at my gorgeous best friend, giggling like a kindergartener faced with a knock-knock joke.

Lucian didn't really know what else to say, I guess, because all he did say was, "Lucian," as they shook hands, and then he stood there, rather awkwardly.

Slowly, I became awesome of the tension between them, and dislodged myself from Cal's side. I cleared my throat, and pushed back wayward strands of hair. "Well, uhm, yeah….I guess I'll see you around, Cal, I'm going to show Lucian around."

Caleb nodded, although the look on his face made me wince inwardly. Apparently, according to Gabrielle, Caleb had a major crush on me, and I so obviously liked Lucian. This was beyond awkward for me. And probably the both of them, too, so you can guess why I wanted to get the hell out of there as fast I could.

So I smiled, trying to make it as unforced as I could, and grabbed Lucian's hand, pulling him out of the quad and into the building.


	5. Chapter 4

Showing Lucian around the school wasn't half as hard as it should've been, considering the sheer size of the building, and then added the size of the voc school right next to it. The green house, the tennis courts, basketball courts, the pool, the gyms, weight room, everything the school had to offer was shown to him before the first bell rang.

Barely, and that gave me barely any time to really talk to him, even though I didn't know what I could've said. He just smiled gently at me when I rambled on about school food, so I dropped that conversation before it could even start. Even worse than the tirade from before was what came after a few seconds of slightly uncomfortable silence... I unconsciously slipped into a rant centering on the terrible teacher in room 140b. Ms. Hardin, who spat when she talked, smelled like an old man's locker room, and refused to take an answer on a test if it wasn't worded exactly as she had explained it. The worst part wasn't my blatant rudeness and disrespect; it was that his soft, almost teasing smile only grew more.

"I'm sorry." I struggled to keep my dignity. "I'm haranguing, aren't I? Stupid habit, I should really stop it," I muttered the last bit to myself, scolding my brain silently for being so stupid. He was certainly not going to be even remotely interested in me now that he knew I blabbered and rambled like a floozy, complaining, uneasy wreck.

"No, not really. To harangue is more to criticize, not complain, am I correct?"

"I, uhm, sure." I should've know that. I really should've paid more attention to my English teacher last year. Now, added to what must have already been a long list of my flaws, he could add that I misuse words I don't really know. I'm surprised he even continued to talk to me.

"It seems it's time to get to class," he said, raising an eyebrow at my blushing face. He smiled again, but it wasn't humorously this time, it seemed more dreamy. Oh, the man was wonderfully delicious. I really could just eat him up. Figuratively, of course. Perhaps not, if I ate with my eyes. I wished I could just stand there all day and look at him, no questions asked on his part, no embarrassment on mine.

Perhaps run my hand through all that dark, thick hair, stare into his eyes a little. His eyes were like windows, quite literally, into his soul. So expressive and sparkling, if you paid enough attention, and could put a name to fleeting, quick flashing of emotions, you'd know exactly what he was thinking, feeling… Perhaps even what he knew.

He probably knew a lot. He looked like the kind of man who knew a lot about everything. About love, about fear, about academics, about technicalities, about everything there was to know. Greek mythology to car repair, he could probably at least cover the basics to both, with his knowing stare and his perceptive smile. Both hinting mildly that he understood something you didn't, while they both hid what they would never share.

"Audra?" his voice interrupted me then, and I looked up, smiling. Every time his satin voice said my name I had to smile. Terrible, really, to think that he already such a hold on me, but wonderful, too, in ways I simply didn't seem able to understand. Every second with him I tried to draw out, make last forever, so I could talk to him.

I liked to hear him talk. His voice was always soft, but still strong. Not extensively deep and not at all high pitched. A little raspy, but barely, just enough to have a bit of a mysterious feel to it. He had an accent, just barely, on certain words sometimes that I couldn't exactly place. It sounded European. Figures he'd be foreign on top of perfect, huh?

"Did you even listen to me?" I distantly heard him ask.

I blinked a few times, the smile still on my face. "I guess," I said, dreamily, too wrapped up in my thoughts of him to be embarrassed.

"You guess? Did you even hear what I asked?" He laughed softly. The fact that I wasn't paying much attention to what he was saying didn't seem to bother him at all. In fact, it seemed to amuse him. There was no way anyone could ever compare him to anyone else, especially in this school.

Lack of attention didn't bother him, just as being the center of it didn't, either. He liked a low profile, but also enjoyed a crowd. He was conflicting in everything he was, just effortlessly fitting into any situation, no stress or work on his part. He just simply was.

"You asked if I was listening to you. I wasn't paying attention to your words, but I was listening to you voice, so I guess I was listening to you." I could've thinned my explanation, exposed less of my feelings towards him. Surely, knowing that I could listen to his voice for hours and be content showed just how obsessive I was growing towards him.

But, if I watered it down, it seemed like lying to me. And, even if it wasn't exactly lying, I still didn't want to even half-lie to him. True, I could've just shrugged, and other wise have ignored his question all together, but I wanted him to know how I felt, even if it meant humiliation.

I trusted him with my heart. Oh, there I go with dramatics again.

"Oh, right…" He nodded, seeming to understand. "Why is that?"

Oh, gosh. His smile was absolutely, remarkably, flawless. Perfectly white teeth, evenly spaced, normal sized, save slightly long canines. They beamed brightly, unconcealed for a moment by his elegant mouth. I nearly sighed aloud.

"I like hearing you talk," I shrugged, answering him, after marveling at his stunning smirk. I'd decided I wasn't going to let onto anything anymore unless I had to. Things were already getting weird between us because of me.

He looked confounded. Even with his eyebrows knit together and a slight frown on his narrow, angular face, he still looked flawless. I wondered, idly, if I would ever get used to seeing him smile at me, even looking at me. If I would ever be completely sure I wasn't dreaming, that he was completely real and not some made up Prince Charming character from my overactive imagination.

His beauty was that grand. Almost inhuman…no, definitely inhuman. He was a god amongst mortals.

"It sounds nice," I mumbled, a little deflated now. He was a god amongst mortals, and I was a troll amongst mortals. He was abnormally beautiful. I was abnormally plain. How unfair.

Features too sharp to be delicate, so soft to be strong, small body, curvy but slim, as if my mind couldn't make itself up. I had nothing interesting about me except for sea colored eyes and hair that went slightly strawberry tinted blonde to full on fiery in the right kind of lighting. I wasn't ugly, but I wasn't anything special.

"My words or my voice?"

I had to back-track a little to understand exactly what we were talking about. What sounded nice. "Both, most of the time," I told him. "But, as of right now, I'd say your voice. Strong, commanding, and yet gently sinuous. Weird mix, but it's lovely." Crap, I was already forgetting to keep that kind of stuff to myself.

He smiled again, a little more absently this time, faintly. "I love your voice, I have to admit. It's like sunshine…"

I didn't reply, just stared down at my feet, blushing. Excuse me? Sunshine? He was nuts. What the hell?

As if reading my mind, he started to explain. "Your voice is placid, light. Warm, sometimes heavy with emotion. You're soft spoken, but your tongue is like a razor blade. You rarely dice your words, but you also rarely raise your tone of voice." The smile on his face was full, almost a grin, not quite as teasing. "And that accent, oh, lord, you remind me of the original southern belles. Beautiful and charming and romantic and wistful. I love it." He smiled distantly, as if at a memory, and I got even more confused.

"And I like your hair. It's like sunshine and strawberries, so soft and gleaming, twisted into perfectly disordered springs. And your eyes perfectly mirror the ocean, pure blue, and yet at the same time green." He added, as his smile warmed, and he seemed to come back to the present.

"…Now it's your words," I teased, poking his nose lightly. I would hardly mention that everyone in North Carolina has the same accent as I do. Why waste his magic? I was so touched by the words. I hardly believed them, but at the same time wanted to do only that.

"I was being serious." His graceful mouth fell into a soft frown.

"I never said that you weren't." Why did he seem upset? So, I pulled a little joke, it wasn't that big a deal. He didn't have to get all sad faced about it on me.

"Do you realize that by refusing to accept my compliments, or shrugging them off with a joke, you're basically calling me a liar, and telling me that my opinion of you means nothing."

It almost sounded like he was snapping at me. I felt bad, of course I did. I didn't mean to insult him, at all. I told him so.

He simply nodded. "Audra, I'm normally not a liar. If I say something, I mean it. I don't say things to flatter people, I just say them because I believe them, and I feel like telling them how I feel."

"Everybody lies."

"Well, of course. I indeed lie, but only when it's necessary for survival or something." He laughed at my logic.

I wondered at his wording. "Necessary for survival"? What exactly was that supposed to mean. Was he over exaggerating? Or was he utterly serious? Did he mean to say that, or did it just slip?

Why was I analyzing such a simple sentence?

"The bell's going to ring. We'll be late for class." He brought me back to reality again, out of my head.

The frown on my face wasn't entirely about having to go to class. I wasn't going to see him until lunch, maybe not even then. I was going to miss him.

"Oh, yeah, right." I prepared myself for an awkward goodbye, not about to share the depth of my feelings for him by telling him that I'd miss him for only a few hours.

He didn't seem to have the same feelings as I did. He just leaned forward, pressed his lips to mine, lingeringly for a moment of pure bliss, then smile, turned, and walked away.


	6. Chapter 5

"Audra Louise, you look absolutely radiant, what is going on?" Gabrielle cried, as we packed up, getting ready for the last beach trip of the year. She pretty much begged to, before the cooler, fall air finally started to sink in. October already, I could hardly believe it. Caleb wandered over, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt, obviously cold. He was also obviously being as dramatic as I could be.

"This is a terrible idea, Gabrielle, we should just cancel." He said, as he reached us, frowning a little more as she thrust a cooler into his arms and lead him to the van, holding an armful of blankets and towels herself. I followed, my arms loaded with a portable radio and another comforter and quilt.

"This is going to be a blast, Cal, and you just need to shut up and enjoy," she snapped, rolling her eyes at him, neatly piling everything into the back of my mother's golden minivan.

"Elle, please, it's already freezing, and the winds at the beach are going to rip right through us…" Caleb mumbled, knowing she wasn't listening, still too stubborn to just shut up already.

Gabrielle just looked at him, her wide, caramel eyes innocent, her perfectly plucked eyebrows raised. As carefree and impulsive as she could be, she was also unflinchingly stubborn, and wasn't about to back down. Caleb knew that as well as I did, but it didn't stop him from huffing.

"Cal, Cal, most wonderful, amazing Cal," I cooed, dumping my load next to Gabrielle's neatly stacked pile. I earned a grunt of distain from her, as she quickly moved to organize the mess I left. I wrapped my arms around his waist in a hug, grinning madly against his chest. "You're too practical for you own good, dear. Just live a little. Have some fun. For once, do something on a whim," I told him, letting him go.

A pair of arms wrapped around me, pulling me back. Even as I squealed with shock and laughter, I knew exactly who it was. Just his scent had me smiling, soft and light, but undoubtedly masculine. "Doing things on a whim is fun," he agreed, kissing my cheek with a loud smack. I giggled, as I turned to him, rising on my toes to give him a kiss in greeting.

I didn't know when it'd come to kisses in public, kisses for hello, kisses for goodbye, but it had. And I wasn't about to complain.

"I didn't know you were coming," I commented.

"Gabrielle invited me last night; I figured it would be fun. I haven't been to the beach in a long, long time." He said, smiling.

I sent a glare at Elle, and she just smirked at me. She slammed the back of the van shut, spinning the keys around her finger as she walked around to lean against it. She frowned at Caleb, trying again to convince him to have some fun just like I had.

"I don't have to come, if you'd like…." Lucian said, obviously a little hurt by my lack of excitement.

"Oh, no, no. I want you to be there, of course I do. You're wonderful. I just wasn't aware you were coming," I admitted, and he smiled back, clearly pleased now. "Elle, are we missing anything?" I called.

She went through everything we'd just piled into the back. "Matches, check. Blankets are a check. Coolers, check. My dad's 24 pack, check. We don't have a grill…" she told me.

"Well, bonfires are always more interesting, don't you think, man?" Caleb said, raising an eyebrow at Lucian. He seemed to have finally warmed up to the idea of going to the beach in fifty degree weather.

"So, we're set to go?" I asked.

"Dead set, just have to pick up Jillian, Mike, and Marissa." Gabrielle agreed.

"I call shotgun!" Even as he was saying it, Cal was slipping into the passenger's seat. Gabrielle laughed a little.

"You want to drive?" she asked me, and then Lucian. We both shook our heads. I know, it was my mom's car and everything, but I was more than a little scared of driving. She nodded a little, shrugging, before walked around to the driver's side, getting in, and starting the engine.

Lucian and I filed into the first row in the back, filling the two seats. I laughed a little as Caleb immediately dug into the glove department, searching though the collection of CDs my mom kept in there. With every one he looked at, his face fell even more.

"The Eagles? Is that all she fucking has?" He made a soft sound in the back of his throat, disdainfully. I almost died laughing. He turned just enough for me to see his glare, then went back to shuffling through the CDs. "I don't know how you put up with her, Lucian," he grumbled.

I laughed again. "Don't be an asshole now, Cal, you know you love me." I said, grinning my most adorable grin at him. He rolled his eyes, then tossed the CDs back, crossing his arms and leaning back. Gabrielle giggled as she started the car, covering her mouth when Caleb sent his glare at her.

"I should've just left when I had the chance." He snapped, to no one in particular.

Gabrielle smiled at him, as she backed out of the drive way, into the one across the seat, and turned around. We were picking Jillian and Marissa up at Jillie's house, and then picking Mike up. "Oh Caleb, you make me feel so special." She glanced at him again, pressing her hand to his cheek, frowning when he pulled away. "Okay, I see how it is," she said, raising an eyebrow, challenging him.

"Oh, c'mon, Elle, I was just joking around." He pouted, taking her hand in his, linking their fingers, as she blushed down to her.

Wait, what? "I didn't know you guys were going out…." I said, completely shocked, and…I admit, quite let down. Why didn't they tell me? Why was I so suddenly out of the loop?

"I…Well, we aren't…." Caleb muttered, quickly dropping Gabrielle's hand, his eyes widening.

"Oh." I nodded. Okay, again. Wait, what? I was so completely confused…again. This was weird, they were acting weird. What the hell was going on, and why didn't anyone tell me?

"I didn't you and Lucian were going out," Gabrielle said. It seemed like a retort, like she was snapping at me for asking a simple question. So I was wrong, I was corrected, so what?

"We're not, that's why." I snapped back, feeling heat fill my face. She really had shot a low blow, there. What was her problem? She was getting all defensive and stupid. She was never like that. She was most likely the mellowest person I knew. Well…other than Lucian.

I couldn't look at him. If I did, I would die. How could she say that? And in front of him, too. I was going to kill her. Slowly, and painfully. How could she?

Lucian's cool hand touched mine, picked it up. He wound his fingers through mine, and then rested our conjoined hands on the seat again. I looked at them. His pale, long, slender fingers, and my own, slightly less pale, definitely less elegant fingers next to them. I looked up at him, a little curious. He just smiled, leaned over, kissed my cheek.

"Relax," he whispered, leaning against my neck. I could feel his breath there, right where my neck and shoulder met. Warm and soft, it tickled lightly, blew gently at my hair. I sighed.

"All right," I murmured back, almost crying out when he leaned back. His hand still held mine.

We were silent the rest of the ride. All except for Caleb, who always seemed to have something to complain about. Even when Jillian, Marissa, and Mike showed up, slid into the seat behind us, there was barely any conversation. Lucian and I never said a word.


	7. Chapter 6

"I've never done this before."

I sighed, turned my head and looked at him. A faint smile played at my lips. "Never done what?" I asked, distractedly, burrowing deeper in the blanket, closer to him under it. We'd moved further away from the rest of the group a while ago, and had rolled ourselves into a cocoon of warm fleece.

"Laid under the stars on the beach," he said, glancing at me briefly, tucking an arm around me. Then he went back to staring up at the dark, midnight sky. I shifted again, so that I lay across his chest, looking down at him. He looked at me, smiling quizzically. "What?" he asked, his hand opening on my lower back.

"Never?"

"Never." He nodded, emphasizing the word. "Is there something wrong with that?" he added, when my eyes broadened a little.

"You have lived a very deprived life, my friend," I said, resting my head on his shoulder.

This was so easy, just laying there with him, watching the sky, hearing the surf hit the shore. My friends were few yards away, toasting marshmallows, screaming excitedly when they caught on fire. There would never be anything as great as his arm around me, his warm, dreamy smell filling my head, his voice ringing in my ears.

"I just haven't spent much time looking around, I guess," he said, his lips pressing against the skin under my ear, sending a riot of sensations through my veins.

"Why not?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, looking up at him. His profile was sharp, his nose a little long, his eyes as dark, and wonderful, as the starlit night. I hadn't ever really paid much attention before, I supposed, because now I realized that his eyes were really lovely. I already knew that, but they seemed to shimmer, almost like a sapphire.

"I don't exactly know," he said, laughing. He looked down, noticed me staring at him. "What?" he asked.

"You're eyes are like sapphires. Perfect, circular sapphire stones set into you face. It's wonderful."

Oh, wow, I always had to sound stupid, right? All the time, I just sounded slow. I would never seem smart to him. I almost sighed at my idiocy, but held it back, knowing that it would just make me seem more like an idiot.

What kind of moron told the person they really, really liked that their eyes were like rocks? Of course, only I would.

"Yeah, it runs in the genes," He said, shrugging. So he realized it? Okay, then maybe I wasn't as stupid.

I almost sighed in relief, then caught myself, and looked at him. His jaw line was tight, as if he were upset, or something. His eyes were gazing off into space, avoiding my own. His fingers curled towards his palm, until his hands were fisted. I watched his face change from content to awkward confusedly.

"Why don't you ever talk about your family?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Because there's really nothing to say about them. They were here. Now they aren't." He said.

"They died?" There goes my lack of a brain again. He just nodded. "I'm sorry." He jerked a shoulder. "How old were you?"

"Much younger than I am now." He said, vaguely.

"I'm sorry." He shrugged again. "How…if you don't mind me asking…how did they die?"

"It was their time."

What the hell was his problem? Was there some reason he wouldn't talk about anything from his past with me? He knew almost everything about me already. Whatever he asked, I answered, always. Anything he wanted to know, I told him. I guess that just shows how compliant I am when faced with someone like him.

I didn't push—I didn't know how he'd take it if I did. I just nodded at him, smiled my most convincing smile, trying not to make it seem strained. "Okay," I said, cheerily.

If he noticed the way I forced my voice and my face to be calm and collected, he didn't let it show. I was a little let down that he didn't ask me what was wrong, that I couldn't guilt him into telling me something—anything—about his childhood. I guess I should've known immediately should've known that he wouldn't fall for such a foolish trick like that.

I guess I shouldn't have cared, either. I'd known him only about two months; there really wasn't a dire need for me to know everything, or anything, about him, anyways.

Just when I thought I wasn't getting anywhere, he sighed. "I'm sorry, Audra, I just don't like talking about them," he said.

"Its fine, I understand." I would've grinned triumphantly at having him need to explain himself to me, but I didn't.

"I doubt you could even if you tried, chéri, it's very complicated." He sighed, pressing his lips to mine quickly. "There are things I wish I could share with you, my dear, but those things also aren't mine to share. And, I doubt you'd receive them well." He smiled, jokingly.

"Chéri…?" I questioned. "Is that French? You speak French?"

"It's my first language. I was born in France, and I lost my parents in France." He didn't look very saddened by their death, so I assumed it hadn't been recent. That and he'd said he had been very young.

"So….like, you were sent here to be brought up by a family member?" I asked.

He shook his head no. "I came here a while after their deaths. They died when I was young, but not young enough to not take care of myself. You must understand, I grew up….differently….than you did. My family, my culture, had more rules in some areas than your's, and less in others. When my parents died, I was heir to their estate… And I had quite a few people who would've brought me up had I needed them."

"Nannies and the sort?" I asked.

"No exactly. They were there, though. Valets, butlers, maids, cooks… They were all willing to call me master, even at my age. I didn't want it, though, I couldn't bare to stay there, with all of them so silently loyal to my family and my lineage, but not to me. So, I guess that's why I was so willing to give it all up for a while. When I came back, I knew they fe—" He paused, shook his head, and looked like he was willing to stop talking right then.

I frowned, rested my head on his chest again, but didn't say anything. He'd already shared with me more than I had hoped for, and I was thankful towards him for that. And, so, that was enough for me, even as I yearned for him to go on, hating a cliff-hanger.

He sighed, running his hand through my hair, brushing the strands away from my face gently. "I don't know how you do it, Audra." His tone was wistful, and I glanced up at him, the away, unsure of what he meant, and therefore, unsure of how to reply. "No, I do. You look at me so contently, with your wide, beautiful eyes, and your heart, so trusting, visible through them. I know you want me to go on, and so I will, but I wish you to know that I've only told you of this, and no one else. Only your wants are enough to subject myself to my past."

"You don't have to, Lucian, I don't want you to….subject yourself…" I struggled with his speech, the way he handled himself. He always seemed too elegantly proper, and still casual, like he could easily be from any century he wanted. At moments, I wondered if he'd simply stepped out of some novel, probably something like _The Three Musketeers_, or some other Alexander Dumas work. And then he'd laugh, make some joke that was so obviously from the 21st century.

"You want to know, and I want to tell you. It's not a pretty story, cher coeur, and I seem the evilest of it, so please, stay biased." He grinned.

"You'd never seem evil to me, Lucian," I whispered, giving into the urge to trace his handsome features with my finger, brushing his cheekbones, down his nose, across his lips gently with the tips of them.

"That's what I mean, please, keep that in mind and listen to me when I explain myself." He turned his head to press a kiss into my palm, reaching his hand up to grasp my own, pulling me into a sitting position, facing him, as he sat up himself.

I nodded, as he fixed the blanket so that it sat over my shoulders, sheltering me from the cold. I started to question him about how he would stay warm, but he held up a hand, clearly thinking, so I stopped, and waited.

He took a deep breath, and plastered a smile to his face. "I think I should start from….my birth, I suppose." He paused, I nodded. He continued. "When I was born, my parents were…satisfied. They had always wanted a male, and had three females to show for it. But, they'd gotten their wish, finally. My mother had fulfilled her purpose at last, my father had his heir. They stopped sharing the same bed that night, but, divorce was frowned upon, and so my mother stayed his wife, to the public. That was it. After I was born, they paid little attention to me, my sisters, or our upbringing. The nurses and governess did it all. My sisters hated me, because I was a boy, because I took from them their share of the estate, of the money, and of the importance that went along with my father's title. Count Christophe Louis d'Ardubios."

I gasped, impressed, and shocked, my eyes flying open to deer-meets-headlights huge. He rolled his eyes.

"It's just a title now, it means nothing these days, except a lot of annoyance and rivalry between my sisters and me. They were all much older than I was, the youngest of them eleven when I was born. I didn't have to deal with them for too long. They all had grace, they all had beauty and charms. They were all married and gone for a long time when I was thirteen. Two years later, my parents were found dead in their beds, some strange disease had settled in their bodies in less than four hours, had killed them, and had evaporated all the blood from bodies. I was old enough to take over their affairs.

"I was naïve, though, and I allowed my sister Louisa to convince me to hand everything over to her and her dunce of a husband. She told me not to worry, she'd take care of it while I needed her. I let her talk me into boarding school. When I came back, she was unwilling to give me what was mine. And she had me removed and banned from the land I rightfully owned."

He looked like he was far away, like he didn't realize he was here, with me, holding my hand on the beach. It was like he couldn't hear the yelling of the teens around him, or the rustle of the winter night-birds as they flew around in the never ending forest that was everywhere in this town. The frown on his face was pained and his bottom lips seemed to tremble for a moment, but I was sure I'd imagined it.

I could tell there was more, and I could tell it wouldn't be wise of me to ask, so when he ended his story with a half-hearted, "So I came here," I just accepted it. Besides, I wasn't completely buying his story.

"That sounds like something out of some old, French novel." I said, a few minutes later, cautiously. I didn't want to offend him and make it seem like I didn't believe him. Even though I really kind of didn't. I didn't think he would lie, but….it was just so out there.

He nodded. "Most of my life does seem old. And fictitious." He nodded at me, clearly understanding why I would think so.

"I don't know if you're lying or if you're telling the truth. Because, I don't think you'd lie, but that sounds way too farfetched to be real. I know there's more, but I don't know if I have the nerve to hear it. It'll just either freak me out."

He nodded again.

"But, none of that made you seem evil…" I switched topics.

He smiled. "I left out all the bad parts including myself. I rather twisted the tale so that I'd seem more victim than villain." He admitted.

"Can I hear the rest?" I asked.

"Perhaps another day." He answered, looking away from me.

I pouted. "What day?"

"One where I think you can handle it."

"I think I should be able to say when that is." I said, narrowing my eyes, determined to hear the rest. No matter if it was true or not, it was interesting.

"You would think so," He nodded, his dark eyes narrowing back. I didn't want him upset with me more than I wanted to understand, so I dropped it. I hardly believed his "life-story", but, right now, I was content to focus merely on being with him, in the cool night air, watching the stars.

I must've lived a highly deprived life myself. Because I'd never done that before, either.


	8. Chapter 7

November wasn't the hardest month, especially not when it came before December and January. Even February made November look like a wuss. It wasn't that cold, and it rarely rained or snowed, just a little frost on your lawn when you first woke up. I guess I just had some reason to hate November, because, from the first minute of it, I was willing to shoot someone in the head. I happily would've shot myself.

I hated going to work, I hated going to school. I even avoided Lucian for a week or so, though that didn't last long. I don't exactly know why, but I just felt like something terrible was burrowing itself right under my nose, and I'd never be able to figure it out. Or if I did, I'd just end up making it worse. Or, I'd be too late.

But, of course, it was probably a feeling set of by some weird, horrible dream I had, but couldn't remember. Nothing really bad ever happened in my life. Nothing nearly exciting, nothing worth a bad feeling.

The last time I'd had one of these was when I first met Lucian. Look at how right that had turned out to be. He was incredible, wonderful. My wrong-o-meter must've been busted or something.

I glared at the note my mother had left me, and then at the boxes of dog food she'd left under it for me to unload and put away. I hated doing inventory. It was the worst thing about working here. I hated washing the igloos from the outside fenced in play-area we'd set up for the dogs, but I had that to do after I finished the dog food. Only because my mom was out of town for a few weeks, to help my grandmother get settled into her new home in Florida.

I groaned, but got to work, getting down on my knees and opening the first box, grabbing the package and tearing it open, pulling out the coupons. I put them to the side, and tossed the bag of food into a box marked "puppy chow". I reached into the box and pulled out another one.

I normally liked the solitude of working in the back. The room was dimly lit, with just a few lights hanging from the high ceiling. The industrial sized dishwasher sat contently in the corner, flagged on each side by the Laundromat style washer, and dryer. There was a row of white shelves, filled with the cat things – beds, blankets, towels, clean litter boxes, and the sort. All of the dog things were on the matching shelves to the right, and the carrying cases were on the shelves below them. In the next room was the kennel staff's break room, with a mini-fridge, a few chairs, and a coat rack that held only my beat up winter jacket that I never wore anymore.

Toady, I just felt lonely back there. The gray floor made me gloomy, and the garage style pull down door was open, showing the gates that closed it off, making me feel like a prisoner. Suddenly, I couldn't wait to finish inventory, so I could get outside to do those igloos.

"Hello, darling."

I would've jumped, but I subconsciously knew he was there, before he even said anything. I turned to see him, leaning gracefully against the doorframe, his eyes glinting with the general amusement and secrets that were always there, as small, playful smile at his lips. All that wonderful dark hair fell into his eyes gently, and he didn't bother to brush it away, just let it stay in the way, as he crossed his arms at his chest, and his legs at the ankle.

I blew out a frustrated breath, a bit of my hair lifting up with it. "Hi," I replied, standing up, stretching out my legs a little as I did. My hair was still straightened from the night before. A night I had spent with Elle, as she gushed about her and Caleb's first official date. I was happy for them, of course, but I couldn't help but be jealous.

A little that my best friends were hooking up, and that I couldn't be apart of that relationship too. More than that was that Lucian and I had still yet to make it official, even though we spent more than half our free time with each other. And all those mind blowing kisses, too.

I'd have to bring that up. Force myself to bring it up, more like, since I was still unbearably shy talking to him about relationships, and getting into one. In fact, so shy about it, that I had yet to bring it up at all.

"Would you like some help?" He asked, his eyes softening when he noted my obvious fatigue, even if it was only nine in the morning.

"I'd love some, but it's not your day to work." I said, in my subtle way of asking him what the hell he was doing here.

"Yes it is. My schedule was changed. I work Saturdays, Sundays, Mondays, and Thursdays." He said, walking over to me in three long strides. He smiled down at me, pressed his lips against mine before I could think to protest.

But I did, once I'd gotten my wits about me again. I stepped back, seething, my hands fisted at my sides. "Do you think you can just come in here and kiss me like that?" I snapped, tossing my head, my loose hair flying with it, as I glared up at him.

His expression slide easily into shock, his eyes widening, his lips parting, just a little. "Excuse moi?"

Ever since that night at the beach, he'd been using more French around me. Calling me little French words that sounded so beautiful, but could've been insults for all I knew. He kept saying little French phrases that I didn't really understand. I was half glad, because it meant he was loosening up around me, and half upset, because I wish I knew what he was talking about. I'd even bought a French-English dictionary.

But now, his French just pissed me off. "Don't use that language on me right now, and don't act like you're surprised, just answer my damn question. Do you think you can just waltz right in, and kiss me?" I sneered.

"Well, why not?" He replied, composing himself, temper flashing in his eyes, his own fingers curling towards his palms as his hand fisted themselves. "We're both single, unattached people with sense in our brains." His lips curled around a snarl, but then fell almost in the same instant. "At least, I'm single." He muttered, glancing away.

"That's it! I've been single, waiting around for you to scoop me up, but you haven't! You just walk in, kiss me, flirt a little, the walk back out! I don't deserve to be treated like some kind of toy, Lucian!"

It looked like he was about to smile, but he caught it. Good thing, too, because I was furious enough already. "I don't think you are, Audra, at all. I just wasn't aware that _you_ wanted to make this into a more permanent sort of relationship. I was under the impression you wanted to keep it…open."

I snorted. "Why would I want that?"

"Well, you've certainly got your pick of the men around here, and I wasn't quite sure that I was exactly what you wanted…If ever you had told me before that I was, I would've gladly, as you so sweetly put it, scooped you up."

He was teasing me, but I was too giddy all of a sudden to care, or to comment that I had no pick of any men around here. Since most of them were losers anyways, I didn't really want my pick either. "So, you want to be…like...my boyfriend?" I asked, blushing lightly at how stupid that sounded.

"Indeed," he nodded, then stepped closer to me again. I didn't step back this time. His hand framed my face, tilting it up towards him. "Can I kiss you now?" he asked, a crooked smile on his face. I nodded, and he lowered his lips to mine, grazing lightly, before gently drawing my bottom lip between his teeth.

There was this soft, purring sort of sound of approval and pleasure, but it took me a moment to realize that it was coming from me. I sighed, my lips parted, and he took full advantage, deepening the kiss.

When we pulled apart, I sighed again. "I'll never get used to that," I mused out loud. I looked at him, and he was grinning. I traced a finger across his cheek. "Or you."

"Pardon?" He raised an eyebrow, covered my hand with his own. He drew it carefully from his face, brought it too his lips.

"You're like a god. A lovely, inhumanly beautiful French god who should have better taste than me." I laughed a little. "Not that I'm complaining about your taste, really. More like thanking my lucky stars."

He frowned. "I'm no god, mon cher. And it'll do you good to remember that."

"Does that have anything to do with you being a villain in the story of you life?" I asked.

He laughed. "You're so clever, chéri. Indeed, it does. And before you ask, no, today is not the day you get to know the rest of that tale."

I pouted. "Please, please, Lucian? I've been patient, I've barely asked you. You said yourself, I've got sense in my head. I know that I'm ready to hear it. Please?" I was begging, I knew, but I wanted to know so badly.

I reached out to him, holding his face in my hands, staring into his eyes, pouting like a little girl, hoping he'd take pity on that and tell me.

"You're not, but I'll tell you anyways. Half because I'm to prove you were wrong about being ready to hear it. And half because I'd like to pretend you are ready to hear it. Remember, my dear. Stay biased. Think only of how you feel towards me, and perhaps _you_ can prove _me_ wrong." He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself.

Then he paused, smiled. He leaned down, his mouth taking mine quickly in a passionate kiss that head my head reeling afterwards. "That might be the last time I get to kiss you," he said, almost sadly, then barreled into his tale.


	9. Chapter 8

He stopped talking, stared at me, and I knew that this was a type of intermission, for me to ask any questions I had. "Nikolai saved you?"

"He was a man of his word. He still is."

"And he promised your mother to keep you safe. Did he succeed?" I asked.

He smiled. "That comes later in the story."

I nodded. "MacDonald…Did he want to kill you? Would he have, if you had stayed?"

"Yes. Very slowly, and very painfully. And if Nikolai had attempted to stop him, he would've killed him as well."

"But why? You were just a boy!"

"Barely a boy, soon to be a man, and I hadn't given him the respect he deserved straight out. I had gawked at him, instead of bowing and pleading forgiveness. I had stood there, beside him, walking there as if he'd given me permission."

"He's rotten." I pouted, quite babyishly, and he smiled.

"I'd say he was, yes." He stopped, waited for me to asked more questions. I had none, and he continued.

"I came back to Île d'Ardubios when I turned 23, and my sister Louisa nearly cried. At first, I thought she was upset to see me and have to give me my land. But she soon made it clear her tears were of happiness, and she embraced me. She was 36 when I came home, and she figured herself growing old. She only wanted to take care of her family, she told me. Her children had grown up in this house, and I wished for them all to stay. Her husband had died the year before of something very close to scarlet fever, and I could hardly send them off on their own. She thanked me vigorously and went on her way to tell her son, Nathan, then eight, and her daughter, Angelique, then five, that their uncle, whom the oldest could hardly remember, was home.

"I loved Nathan, with his cheerful smile and his mindless chatter. He loved horses, and so I showed him the horseflesh I had brought from England, a lovely, black mare with a coat that shined like the sun. A fine British bay horse, lovely and regal. He wanted her, and so I gave her to him, as a late birthday present. His mother warned me not to spoil him, and was disappointed by me even more later.

"Because, little Angelique held my heart, and my wallet, and got whatever she asked for. With pale blonde hair, just like my sister's, but curled neatly like my mother's, she reminded me lovingly of both. Eyes like the ocean around our beloved isle, crystal clear, and innocently naïve, like all girls her age. The same color as my mother's. She reminded me of a porcelain doll. On my first day home, she'd decided I'd be her replacement father, and I didn't have the heart to correct her. She called me Papa.

"Oh, how I loved that girl.

"Word traveled, like it did when there was nothing else to do but gossip, and soon, everyone knew that Christophe's heir had returned. MacDonald came two years after I returned. I could speak English without flaw then, and he spoke to me directly, not through Nikolai, although Nikolai was there. Neither of them had aged a day.

"He spit on my ground purposely before he spoke. The first thing that clod did was call my mother a whore. The very first thing he said was that I was the son of a whore and a fool and that I deserved no life, and he was there to make it happen. This obviously wasn't going to end peacefully.

"He had no horse this time, and his hair was loose. His eyes were alight and blood colored, glowing like a cat's, red as the rubies the court women cherished. I wasn't a little boy anymore, and I wasn't afraid of death. He would not call my mother, my dead mother, a whore. Especially since he had killed her himself. Before I could take action though, my little angel was running towards me. I wanted to yell for her to go back, but I knew that would only spark more curiosity in MacDonald. I paid her no mind, hoping she'd do want she normally did when she was ignored – promptly ignore me back. But she raised her voice louder.

"I spun at her, glaring furiously. She'd reached me by then, and her eyes widened with shock and fear at my expression, but I had no time for regrets. I yelled at her, telling her to get back to the house now. I didn't even listen to her protest, just screamed louder. She pouted but turned to go back. MacDonald grinned. He called to her, in terrible French. She turned. I was more terrified of what he'd do to her if she didn't oblige him, so I nodded, and she stepped forward. He looked at me, falling back into English. He asked me if she was my girl, and I told him that she wasn't, she was my sisters. He stated that I cared about her. I glanced at Nikolai in time to see him shake his head quickly. I understood immediately. Like killing me to upset my father….he would've killed Angie to upset me."

I gasped, and my hand flew to my heart, tears filled my eyes, and then his. "He really would have—"

He held up a hand to silence me. "Let me finish." He said, making me think the worse I could imagined was true. "I told him that I didn't have a particular liking for the girl, but I put up with her for my sister's sake. I was glad she couldn't understand English, for she would've surely started crying then. But, MacDonald was no fool. He glared at Nikolai for a moment, then grinned at me. He snatched Angie into his arms, winding an around her tiny waist, pulling her out from behind me before I could blink. A second later, she was on the floor, trembling. His mouth was dripping with her blood, her flesh hung between his teeth…" He stopped, stared at the ground. I think he decided I couldn't take the gory details, because he went on. I thanked him for that, even as I shuddered at the little he did tell me.

"He pulled out her carotid vein. Clean from her body. I was able to hold her in my arms for barely two seconds, then she was dead. I didn't have time for tears. I lunged at him. I guess my quick attack caught him by surprise, because I actually managed to get him to the ground, get a few hits in, before he quickly maneuvered, rolling until he was on top of me. He ducked his head, and I felt something jab into my skin. I knew that he was sucking me dry, and that I would die. I struggled for a few minutes, then decided it wasn't worth it. Life wasn't worth it anymore."

He was crying, and I sighed wretchedly, reaching over, holding him close, but he pushed me back. "No, the most important part is next." He snapped.

I sat back, a little shocked and a little scared, and nodded at him to continue, with an attemptedly serene stare.

He wiped at his eyes. "He was yanked off of me, and quickly, very quickly, my arm was grabbed. It was sliced, I could feel the knife dig into my skin, the quick flash of pain, mixed in with all the other flashes of it in my body, emotional and physical, and then a goblet was thrust under my lips, and tilted up. I knew what I was drinking, but I drank it still. It didn't taste gross, it tasted good. Salty, metallic. It was thick and warm, but there were also a feeling of coldness to it, as it slid down my throat. It was my first taste of blood, and I liked it.

"And then I died. I knew I did, but was distressed that I could still think. As I waited to see the gates of hell, for I was sure I would be going there. My mother died because of me, my Angelique, and most likely the others in the house, and so I would be going to hell. But the gates never came. So, I waited still, this time for the gates of heaven, thinking, perhaps, standing up to such a villain might have earned me a ticket into the golden city…But the pearly gates never came either.

"And I waited, and waited. Then, I stared to feel a sensation. I could feel my body again, I wasn't just thoughts bouncing around in darkness any longer. I could feel a body, and I knew that it was mine, although I could move nothing. Then, gradually, I could move my fingers, my toes. I could roll my wrists, my ankles. Bend my elbows, then my knees. And finally, I had full use of my body again.

"It was too dark for me too see, but I knew I was somewhere small, and made of some kind of smooth, cool stone. I figured marble. I touched my hand to my neck, but there was no blood, not even a hole, or those to little puncture wounds vampires are so famous for. I didn't know what to make of it. I reached up, brushed the ceiling of the too tiny room I was in. I soon discovered the it wasn't a ceiling—plainly a cover. And it was, in fact, made of marble. There was no way I could pick up a slab of marble on my own, but I had to try. I was feeling claustrophobic.

"When I pressed my hands to the surface and pushed, it gave easily. So I pushed it out of the way and sat up with shock, examining the room I was in. I could see all the tiny detail of the stone walls, could read all the fine print of the markers and the plaques. I could smell the damp, dirty smell of death, the decaying bodies, and the scent of exposed bones. I nearly cried out. I was in a tomb. My family tomb, and I was sitting up in my own coffin."


	10. Chapter 9

He stopped talking, stared at me, and I knew that this was a type of intermission, for me to ask any questions I had. "Nikolai saved you?"

"He was a man of his word. He still is."

"And he promised your mother to keep you safe. Did he succeed?" I asked.

He smiled. "That comes later in the story."

I nodded. "MacDonald…Did he want to kill you? Would he have, if you had stayed?"

"Yes. Very slowly, and very painfully. And if Nikolai had attempted to stop him, he would've killed him as well."

"But why? You were just a boy!"

"Barely a boy, soon to be a man, and I hadn't given him the respect he deserved straight out. I had gawked at him, instead of bowing and pleading forgiveness. I had stood there, beside him, walking there as if he'd given me permission."

"He's rotten." I pouted, quite babyishly, and he smiled.

"I'd say he was, yes." He stopped, waited for me to asked more questions. I had none, and he continued.

"I came back to Île d'Ardubios when I turned 23, and my sister Louisa nearly cried. At first, I thought she was upset to see me and have to give me my land. But she soon made it clear her tears were of happiness, and she embraced me. She was 36 when I came home, and she figured herself growing old. She only wanted to take care of her family, she told me. Her children had grown up in this house, and I wished for them all to stay. Her husband had died the year before of something very close to scarlet fever, and I could hardly send them off on their own. She thanked me vigorously and went on her way to tell her son, Nathan, then eight, and her daughter, Angelique, then five, that their uncle, whom the oldest could hardly remember, was home.

"I loved Nathan, with his cheerful smile and his mindless chatter. He loved horses, and so I showed him the horseflesh I had brought from England, a lovely, black mare with a coat that shined like the sun. A fine British bay horse, lovely and regal. He wanted her, and so I gave her to him, as a late birthday present. His mother warned me not to spoil him, and was disappointed by me even more later.

"Because, little Angelique held my heart, and my wallet, and got whatever she asked for. With pale blonde hair, just like my sister's, but curled neatly like my mother's, she reminded me lovingly of both. Eyes like the ocean around our beloved isle, crystal clear, and innocently naïve, like all girls her age. The same color as my mother's. She reminded me of a porcelain doll. On my first day home, she'd decided I'd be her replacement father, and I didn't have the heart to correct her. She called me Papa.

"Oh, how I loved that girl.

"Word traveled, like it did when there was nothing else to do but gossip, and soon, everyone knew that Christophe's heir had returned. MacDonald came two years after I returned. I could speak English without flaw then, and he spoke to me directly, not through Nikolai, although Nikolai was there. Neither of them had aged a day.

"He spit on my ground purposely before he spoke. The first thing that clod did was call my mother a whore. The very first thing he said was that I was the son of a whore and a fool and that I deserved no life, and he was there to make it happen. This obviously wasn't going to end peacefully.

"He had no horse this time, and his hair was loose. His eyes were alight and blood colored, glowing like a cat's, red as the rubies the court women cherished. I wasn't a little boy anymore, and I wasn't afraid of death. He would not call my mother, my dead mother, a whore. Especially since he had killed her himself. Before I could take action though, my little angel was running towards me. I wanted to yell for her to go back, but I knew that would only spark more curiosity in MacDonald. I paid her no mind, hoping she'd do want she normally did when she was ignored – promptly ignore me back. But she raised her voice louder.

"I spun at her, glaring furiously. She'd reached me by then, and her eyes widened with shock and fear at my expression, but I had no time for regrets. I yelled at her, telling her to get back to the house now. I didn't even listen to her protest, just screamed louder. She pouted but turned to go back. MacDonald grinned. He called to her, in terrible French. She turned. I was more terrified of what he'd do to her if she didn't oblige him, so I nodded, and she stepped forward. He looked at me, falling back into English. He asked me if she was my girl, and I told him that she wasn't, she was my sisters. He stated that I cared about her. I glanced at Nikolai in time to see him shake his head quickly. I understood immediately. Like killing me to upset my father….he would've killed Angie to upset me."

I gasped, and my hand flew to my heart, tears filled my eyes, and then his. "He really would have—"

He held up a hand to silence me. "Let me finish." He said, making me think the worse I could imagined was true. "I told him that I didn't have a particular liking for the girl, but I put up with her for my sister's sake. I was glad she couldn't understand English, for she would've surely started crying then. But, MacDonald was no fool. He glared at Nikolai for a moment, then grinned at me. He snatched Angie into his arms, winding an around her tiny waist, pulling her out from behind me before I could blink. A second later, she was on the floor, trembling. His mouth was dripping with her blood, her flesh hung between his teeth…" He stopped, stared at the ground. I think he decided I couldn't take the gory details, because he went on. I thanked him for that, even as I shuddered at the little he did tell me.

"He pulled out her carotid vein. Clean from her body. I was able to hold her in my arms for barely two seconds, then she was dead. I didn't have time for tears. I lunged at him. I guess my quick attack caught him by surprise, because I actually managed to get him to the ground, get a few hits in, before he quickly maneuvered, rolling until he was on top of me. He ducked his head, and I felt something jab into my skin. I knew that he was sucking me dry, and that I would die. I struggled for a few minutes, then decided it wasn't worth it. Life wasn't worth it anymore."

He was crying, and I sighed wretchedly, reaching over, holding him close, but he pushed me back. "No, the most important part is next." He snapped.

I sat back, a little shocked and a little scared, and nodded at him to continue, with an attemptedly serene stare.

He wiped at his eyes. "He was yanked off of me, and quickly, very quickly, my arm was grabbed. It was sliced, I could feel the knife dig into my skin, the quick flash of pain, mixed in with all the other flashes of it in my body, emotional and physical, and then a goblet was thrust under my lips, and tilted up. I knew what I was drinking, but I drank it still. It didn't taste gross, it tasted good. Salty, metallic. It was thick and warm, but there were also a feeling of coldness to it, as it slid down my throat. It was my first taste of blood, and I liked it.

"And then I died. I knew I did, but was distressed that I could still think. As I waited to see the gates of hell, for I was sure I would be going there. My mother died because of me, my Angelique, and most likely the others in the house, and so I would be going to hell. But the gates never came. So, I waited still, this time for the gates of heaven, thinking, perhaps, standing up to such a villain might have earned me a ticket into the golden city…But the pearly gates never came either.

"And I waited, and waited. Then, I stared to feel a sensation. I could feel my body again, I wasn't just thoughts bouncing around in darkness any longer. I could feel a body, and I knew that it was mine, although I could move nothing. Then, gradually, I could move my fingers, my toes. I could roll my wrists, my ankles. Bend my elbows, then my knees. And finally, I had full use of my body again.

"It was too dark for me too see, but I knew I was somewhere small, and made of some kind of smooth, cool stone. I figured marble. I touched my hand to my neck, but there was no blood, not even a hole, or those to little puncture wounds vampires are so famous for. I didn't know what to make of it. I reached up, brushed the ceiling of the too tiny room I was in. I soon discovered the it wasn't a ceiling—plainly a cover. And it was, in fact, made of marble. There was no way I could pick up a slab of marble on my own, but I had to try. I was feeling claustrophobic.

"When I pressed my hands to the surface and pushed, it gave easily. So I pushed it out of the way and sat up with shock, examining the room I was in. I could see all the tiny detail of the stone walls, could read all the fine print of the markers and the plaques. I could smell the damp, dirty smell of death, the decaying bodies, and the scent of exposed bones. I nearly cried out. I was in a tomb. My family tomb, and I was sitting up in my own coffin."


	11. Chapter 10

"Nikolai was there, watching me intently. I pulled myself from the coffin, my eyes wide, a million emotions whirling through me at once, followed by a million questions, half a million answers. I stretched uncomfortably, wincing as my muscles unwound, expecting the pain of aches. They didn't come. I stared at him for a moment, then spoke, expecting a raspy voice from the time from my death, till now. It seemed like years. But, my voice was strong, if not more musical, more alluring. It shocked me so much, I nearly startled. I asked what he was doing there, as the first of many questions. He walked to me, motioned for me to sit on one of the covered tombs. I did, and he sat next to me. I don't know why, but there was such an honest air about him, I still trusted him.

"He was frowning, like he normally was. He said that he had wanted to be around to answer my questions when I was reborn. I nodded, and then asked my second question, wasting no time. I asked him what happened to me. He seemed to have expected that question. He explained, very patiently, that the drink I'd had before I'd died completely was a mixture of human blood and vampire blood and aloe, that, when added to the venom in vampire saliva, has the effect of changing someone into a vampire."

He stopped, looked at me, gauging my expression, my reaction to that. It took a few seconds for it to hit home. Nikolai was MacDonald's companion of sorts, I understood that. He was a vampire, like MacDonald. And so, being one of them…

"…You're a vampire?" I asked. I was very pleased with my voice. It barely shook, though I could feel the blood drain from my face. My eyes stayed in my skull, but I'm sure they were diner-plate sized by now.

"You look like you believe it." He said, tilting his head, studying me with attentive, striking eyes.

"I think I might." I said, straining to keep my tone light. I ended up sounding breathless and perhaps a little scared.

"Come outside with me, and I'll show you some of my…abilities…if you already think you believe me, this will prove to you…" He held out a hand to me, and I hesitated only three or four seconds before placing mine into it. He looked stunned for a second, then grinned, obviously delighted that I still trusted him.

He opened the gate, and walked out. The day was sunny, but chilly, and I was glad I was still wearing the sweatshirt I'd tossed over my t-shirt that morning. Before I could ask him what he would do to show me, he was scooping me up into his arms. It seemed so easy for him, and I wondered if it was part of the vampire superhuman package. Or if he was just normally that comfortable picking up a hundred and thirteen pounds. He did use two arms.

"I won't drop you, but don't close your eyes. You need to watch your surroundings. You know these woods. I'll take you through them. Count in your head." He said. I nodded. He leaned forward on his left leg a little. "Start…now!" he said, and then he was running.

I saw flashes of trees, flashes of green, brown, and the patches of sunshine that peeked through the branches. It all swam before my eyes as I counted. One. Two. Three…Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nine—

"We're here." He set me on my feet, and I swayed a little. He gripped my shoulders gently, concern flashing in his eyes. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"I just get dizzy easy," I said, looking around. My eyes lingered on the woodpile, covered by a bright blue tarp, and the small, faded, red shed. I knew exactly where we were. At least an hour and a half walk from the shelter. And he'd done it in nineteen seconds. "Holy shit."

"How long?" He asked.

"…Nineteen…."

He winced. "Well, that's a little slow for me. I suppose I was trying to be careful. I had precious cargo to think of." He smiled.

"You really are…." I closed my eyes.

"I am…?" He prompted, moving his hands up to surround my face, brushing his thumbs softly over my cheekbones.

I opened my eyes, looked into his. "Oh, do I have to say it?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No, you don't. As long as you believe it. Do you?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Are you still biased?" he asked.

I thought about it, really thought. And I smiled. "Completely." I said. Terrified, too. But still biased. I tried to think of what would happen if I said "no". He would take that well, he would just nod, probably, say his goodbyes, and leave me. And I didn't want him to leave me.

"Good." He beamed. "Was that my last kiss, or may I steal another?"

I couldn't help but smile again, stronger this time, as I raised to my toes and pressed a kiss to his lips, softly. Yes, he was a vampire, and they weren't really considered the most kind beings. But, I'd been in enclosed areas with him, with only him, and had never felt fear, only admiration, desire, perhaps anxiety that I would ruin our relationship. He had never once tried to hurt me…

He smiled, gestured to a tree stump. "You have no idea how happy I am right now," he brushed a lock of hair from my face, and I sighed contentedly as I sat.

"I might, I've been pretty happy since you showed up."

Maybe he was doing something to me with his mind powers...? That made me frown for a moment. But if he had been, would it have been so easy for me to figure out? That made me smile again. I wasn't even sure if vampires had mind powers. So, no, he wasn't seducing me. Oh, that word. I never thought that I'd ever use it in my life. Who seduces anymore?

It figures that Lucian would.

But, anyway, why would he want to seduce _me_? Besides, we've already proven that I was way more than willing to do whatever he wanted, as long as it didn't involve murder or something. He already had me, completely. Oh, god, I sounded like a freaking obsessed stalker or something.

God, help me.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Fuck that.

Here comes Audra, the Vampire Stalker.

"What's on your mind, Audra?" he suddenly asked, his voice just as smooth and softly compelling as always, making me blush just by hearing him say my name. I was lucky I had been staring down at my hands, folded neatly on my lap, because if I had seen the way his lips went around the letters, forming them, I might've attacked him again, like I had countless times before. His mouth was too damn attractive for his, or my, own good.

"Hmm…?" The words had been lost to me; I couldn't remember what he had asked. I had, yet again, been much to distracted by him. I continued to stare at my hands, hoping the warm haze that filled my mind was an upcoming migraine—not something else. Like him reading my mind or something. That would not be good. I was sure he definitely did _not_ want to know what was on my mind.

"Audra, you _can_ look at me, you know," he murmured, his voice even softer, even more beautiful than ever, if that could have been possible.

I just nodded my head. "I know, I just like my ring," I muttered, blushing more, turning to small, silver circlet around my finger a few times... God, he was really messing with me. I had to get out of here, and fast.

"I should go…" I said, almost like I was asking for his permission, my voice squeaking on the last word. I cleared my throat and tried to calm my head. i_Get a hold on yourself, Audra. Don't be such a wuss/i,_ I snapped at myself, almost wanting to smack myself in the head. I looked up at him for the first time in almost ten minutes and smiled my most convincing smile. "I mean, I've got a lot of homework to do. And some college applications to fill out, and stuff…" I shrugged.

"Uhm…" He looked slightly puzzled, as if I had confused him. "Well, is there anything I can help with…? I mean, I have filled out my fair share of college applications, you know," he winked at me, and I tried to hold back the shudder, even as it made my shoulders shake slightly.

He frowned. I wanted to die. "Are you afraid of me now, Audra?" he asked, his bottom lip jutting out a little. I wondered why it would upset him if I was scared of him.

"Honesty or a lie…?" I asked, ashamed by how weak and shaken my voice sounded.

"I'll take that as a yes then. All right, I don't want to frighten you…please, let me just say that meeting you has….it's the best thing that could've ever happened to me." He turned so quickly to leave I was surprised my hand had reached out fast enough to grab his arm.

"Lucian…" My voice sounded too weak, almost frail, and I cleared my throat.

He turned back to facing me slowly, all the while staring at my hand upon his arm. My skin, shades darker than his alabaster, tingled where it connected with his. I smiled as convincingly as I could when his eyes finally swept up to my face. His expression was cautious, almost despaired, as if he was deeply saddened by something. I sighed a little inwardly.

Even pain looked lovely on him. He was a moving piece of art, smiles and heartbreak, beauty. All of it, he made me wistful and needy. Seeing him was like a vision, a dream, and I didn't know if I wanted to wake up and fight off what could easily turn out to be a nightmare, or wait it out, for hope of another glimpse of him, the scent of him, and the feel of him.

I struggled to explain to him something I wasn't even sure of yet. My feelings.

"I don't know if I'm scared of you yet. But I _do_ know that I don't want you to leave. Especially not if I'm not going to get the chance to see you again."

The grin on his face now was the most devastating thing I had ever seen. It was just so pure. Such a genuinely beaming smile. I had never seen anything like it before. I wish I could have seen more of it, but he pulled me against him too quickly, I barely had time to register that he was smiling at all. The inside of his jacket was warm, and I was still freezing, thanks to the late autumn air. I should've brought more than just my hoodie. I guess his distractions had been a good thing in this case, before now I hadn't even realized I was cold.

He didn't seem to mind, though, when I slid my arms around his waist, underneath the warm wool of the coat, and on top of the thick dark navy sweater he was wearing under it. He just laughed a little against my ear, pulling me closer. And then he inhaled, just like he had the first time we met, inhaling deeply.

"Oh, Audra, you smell so sweet, so stunningly sweet. Like citrus, and rose petals in the rain, and sunshine, all mixed up. It's almost enough to distract me from the smell of your blood, to not want it as desperately as I do…" he step back quickly, those stunning navy eyes wide with fear of what he had said. It took me a minute to understand. When I did, I waited for the fear to come, for me to run, but it never came, and I never did.


End file.
